


Wolf's Den - 30 A.B.

by FanFicReader01



Series: The Unknown Below [11]
Category: Powerwolf (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Post-Apocalypse, Shop, Slice of Life, mechanists, thugs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 14:19:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20259475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01
Summary: Falk returns from a scavenging trip. What he encounters at home isn't unusual but could certainly stir up his life.





	Wolf's Den - 30 A.B.

**Author's Note:**

> Story 10 features people from the band Powerwolf.  
Mainly a shenanigan between me and a friend, made me cameo them into this AU as well. So if the characters are off, is becos I don't know them much at all xD

You come back from a short scavenging trip. When you get to the main workshop, you already see a few vehicles at the parking lot. Many customers, you hope. You enter the shop via the part that’s a left over from some diner. Matthew and Charles are serving some drinks when they spot you.

“You made it back safely,” they smile.

“Yes. Got some nice useable scrap metal. Is Roel in the workshop?”

“Yes. Got some… clients,” Charles gives you a meaningful look and you nod.

In the large mechanical workplace you indeed find the bald man. He’s talking to a whole group of what seems to be… pirates. Or raiders at least.

“I’m back.”

“Ah, Falk. There you are! I need your advice for these men,” Roel immediately comes up to you, relieving you from your heavy bag. The man gives you the same look as Charles. You straighten your back and walk up to the group. You clap your hands together and put a pretentious smile on your face.

“We need new, stronger armour,” the leader growls.

“Alright. Any specific requirements? What body parts need protection?”

“All, of course.”

You hide your annoyance at the blunt replies. “Mainly defence or offence?” You ask instead.

“Offence, of course,” the man smirks. You don’t like the look in those fierce eyes.

“Very well. Let me show you, gentlemen, our assortment.” You walk the group through a gallery of armour pieces. Some are more lightweight than others.

“It depends on what kind of combat you handle. These ones offer great protection, but weigh heavy. These, on the other hand are easier to wear but might break quicker as well.”

Some minutes later, you settle a fair deal and are immediately paid. For a moment, you are relieved for that. With these kind of guys, you never know if they’ll backstab you or just never pay up and run off with the carefully crafted armour you make here. The rather satisfied customers make their way to the front and settle down at the bar. Once again, they make crude remarks and aren’t very patient.

You’re glad that Attila isn’t here at the moment or these customers would’ve gotten an ass whooping earlier.

While Charles is preparing the drinks, Matthew is counting the money. Then the bell rings and a new person steps into the small front café. It’s a man of average height with short brown-blondish hair. He looks like a simple civilian. He’s clearly uncomfortable when he has to take a seat next to a pirate.

You get yourself behind the counter and make yourself useful by cleaning some glasses while you still observe the scene before you.

The new client orders a simple glass of water and you give it to him in exchange for a coin.

“What a dumb drink,” one of the pirates exclaims.

To that, the other man doesn’t react. Well, he does so but he doesn’t say anything. A bit unsure, you exchange looks with Matthew at the counter. He subtlety shakes his head. Still, the shudders and stiff posture of the civilian don’t go unnoticed.

“You can say it, lad! How you don’t want us around!” one pirate acts up. Even slamming his fist onto the bar.

This is bothersome. Sometimes you wish you wouldn’t be serving thugs, but money is money and thus all clients of all kinds of walk of lives are ‘welcome’. As long as they aren’t causing too much trouble to your shop and your friends. You want to open your mouth this time Matthew actually speaks up.

“You are all customers here. So you better behave or else take it outside.”

“Maybe we should,” one other guy sniggers.

“Weren’t you customers, we would’ve thrown you out already,” you hiss under my breath. If this would turn out into a brawl, you’re sure you and the brothers could take these pathetic pirates on. What you’re more worried about, is the civilian here. You don’t want to risk him getting killed in some stupid fight over some stupid taunting.

“Alright, alright. I’ll get it. We’ll finish our drinks and are out of here. We got what we came for anyway,” the pirate leader chaffs and waves his hand. Quickly the group gets up and with some yelling they depart from the island. Once they’re fully out of the picture, you and your friends focus on the civilian again who’s wiping away some sweat with a tissue.

“Thanks a lot there,” he sighs in relief.

“It’s nothing. We often get such clients. We know how to deal with them,” you smile.

“I can’t believe you allow that scum in here.”

“They’re our customers,” Matthew frowns and crosses his arms.

“I know, I know… But still. It’s kind of questionable,” the civilian traces the rim of his glass with an unsteady thumb.

“We all have our way of making money and getting by,” Charles adds. “And sometimes it’s not so ethical. But morals in this wasteland are different than life prior anyway”

“I guess you could say that,” the man mutters and stares into his empty glass. “Well, I’ll be on my way. Hope I won’t run into that gang again.”

You smirk and stop the man in his tracks. “If so, you might need some better protection than just those clothes. If you could spare some coin for it, that is?”

**Author's Note:**

> Got inspired by Fallout 4's group the Atomic Cats who make and repair power armour :P


End file.
